After this, in spite of the gloom that settled on the host, the evening went better. And when the party broke up, at what the Captain called a scandalous hour, and scattered to hotel and tenement, there was some cordiality in the chorus of good-nights and good-byes. In the morning, by an early train, the three members of the Craig family and Halloran returned to Wauchung. CHAPTER XII--The Pine Comes In That settles it,” exclaimed Halloran, tossing a letter on the desk. Crosman looked up. “We've placed our last order for lumber this season,” said Halloran. “Have the Trust people waked up?” “Yes. Our Oconomowoc man writes that they refuse to sell him another foot unless they're assured that it won't come to us. They're pretty late about it. We've got nearly all we want. Well, that ends it, anyhow. The next thing is to get it all in. There's no use paying storage to all those fellows now that we're found out. I wish you'd see about getting both steamers off as soon as you can--send them to Chicago and Milwaukee, where we have the biggest lots. We'll write for steamers and schooners for the other towns.” “Can we get it all in the yards? There's a lot here now.” “Got to. It will crowd up close to the mills, but we can't help it.” “That will raise the insurance premium--clear up to the mill rate. “I know it.” “Do you want me to go ahead with the insurance?” “No; not yet. Speak to me again about it in a day or so. This lumber isn't going to help us out very far if we let all our profits go out in storage and commissions and carriage and insurance. I don't know but what we'll have to carry it ourselves. It isn't just the weather I'd have picked out--but this business isn't of our choosing, anyway. I'd like to find out how much old G. Hyde knows about us. I don't believe he's got on the track of the whole stock.” And so the order went out to concentrate all the lumber at Wauchung; and at the flying word, passing from house to house, that at last there was to be work at the yards, Wauchung stirred and aroused. Again men came flocking to the office, shouldering peavies and cant-hooks and clamouring for employment. Sailors appeared to man the steamers and were set to scrubbing and polishing. Coal-wagons rumbled through the yards to the wharves, bringing food for the furnaces. Men went about grinning and joking and slapping backs heartily, and swapping yams about the Old Gentleman in his palmy days, ten and twenty years before. Robbie MacGregor appeared, fatter than ever after his enforced idleness, growling at all the known works of the Creator, and refusing to speak civilly to any one until he had let himself into his greasy blue overalls and was free to finger his levers, and dress down the oilers, and swear gloriously at the new hands in the stoke-room. “Good-afternoon, Mr. Halloran,” said Captain Craig, when he reached the office. “When are we to start?” “To-night, if you have your men. MacGregor's on hand now, getting up steam.”